Christmas parties and imaginary mistletoe
by Tozz
Summary: Being the mayor's son had to be difficult, but surely it was nothing like being the mayor's son's girlfriend. Secret Santa gift.


Aaand, for the big reveal, my Secret Santa gift goes to...Ultra Drama Queen! Eee, I was really pleased to get you :D I formed the idea for this fic fairly quickly, which was a relief, haha. I really hope you like it! It's a pairing I'm fond of, too. x3; I know I did some crossing over with other games, but I hope you don't mind.

Anyways, have a happy happy Christmas, to Ultra Drama Queen and everyone else~

x x x

Being the mayor's son had to be difficult, but surely it was nothing like being the mayor's son's _girlfriend_.

It never seemed so bad to Angela when she and Gill first started dating. Everyone in Waffle Town accepted their relationship without question—even complimented them on how cute a couple they made. He'd blushed when he asked her to "go steady," and she'd held in her giggle at hearing him use the antiquated phrase. She was hardly able to say yes fast enough, and they'd been together ever since. Things were, for the most part, perfect.

Sure, there were times when Gill seemed (at least, in her opinion) to be a little _too_ devoted to keeping up the town hall—he spent endless amounts of hours there, constantly filling out paperwork and organizing archives and millions of other menial tasks that he somehow enjoyed. And sometimes, secretly, she was intimidated and overwhelmed by her position; she was merely a farmer, after all, a girl who'd struck out for a simpler life, and here she was dating the son of the _mayor_, a boy who lived in a house that made _hers_ look like a chicken coop, who hated getting dirt on his clothes because they were actually _nice_, and who pretty much single-handedly ran an entire town (with the occasional aide of his father, especially when it came to public relations; Gill wasn't known to be the most gregarious person in Waffle Town—though she loved him all the same).

And, incidentally, the mayor's son also got invited to Christmas parties. Christmas parties that took place at big mansions, where the guest list consisted of all the local politicians and mayors and everyone else who was important, along with their families. So naturally Mayor Hamilton was invited, as well as Gill, and they were permitted to bring a guest. Gill, as her boyfriend, chose Angela.

And now, the night of the party had finally arrived. She smoothed a hand over the back of her hair and instantly regretted it, remembering the lengths Julius had gone to when he'd done her hair for her—somehow, he'd managed to take her plain, mouse-colored tresses and twist them up into an intricate updo that actually made her look passably pretty. At least, it was pretty until she stupidly touched her hair and surely ruined it, though she was too scared to go find a mirror to check. She quickly returned her hand back to her side, flattening her palm against the side of her leg, as if by doing that she could take back what she'd just done.

"Are you nervous?" Gill asked in her ear, thankfully right at her side, his hand on the small of her back. Over the swarm of nerves buzzing in her head, he was the only familiar thing she could hold onto—an anchor.

"Of course not," she answered. A lie.

x x x

"Christmas party?" Angela said, around a mouthful of her sandwich. Gill hated it when people talked with their mouths full, but it was a habit he long ago stopped trying to rid Angela of. He barely even noticed it now. Most of the time.

They were eating lunch at the Sundae Inn, like they did whenever Gill took a rare lunch break—usually about once a week.

"Yes, a Christmas party," he repeated, not quite expecting her reaction, which seemed to be puzzlement edged with panic. Then again, it was hard to read her exact expression with her cheeks crammed like that. He smiled in spite of himself, briefly thinking of how she looked like a chipmunk.

"And there's going to be other mayors there and stuff?" She'd swallowed now and was looking at him with a wide-eyed expression.

"Yes. It's a formal affair, so we'll both have to dress up…." He trailed off, watching as her eyes seemed to be growing by the second. "…Is something wrong?"

"It's just…" She paused, patting her napkin to her lips in an oddly ladylike gesture, as if to delay what she was about to confess. Finally, she admitted, "I've never been to a Christmas party."

He grinned assuringly, reaching out across the table to take her hand. "Don't worry about it. It's nothing you can't handle, I promise." He said it with full confidence—after all, Angela always seemed capable and hard-working with whatever she did. It amazed him how she could take care of a farm full of crops and livestock day in and day out and never tire of it. Surely a Christmas party would be a piece of cake for someone like her.

x x x

This Christmas party was going to kill her.

For starters, everyone was so much more _glamorous_ than she was. Everyone's wives and fiancés and girlfriends were older and flashier, decked out in designer dresses with plunging necklines. Angela, in her simple gown that Luna had insisted she wear to the party because it looked _perfect_ on her, felt entirely out of place. She belonged in dusty cutoffs with a watering can in her hand, not in silky fabric that swished when she walked. And more than just the clothes and the people, it was the food: she'd been expecting fruitcakes and cupcakes—it was a Christmas party, after all—but instead there were unidentifiable balls and puffs and crackers, none of which seemed appetizing or edible.

She followed Gill like a nervous, sweaty shadow as he went from person to person, stopping with to chat with the mayor of some city or the president of some corporation or the inheritor of some fortune. Fortunately, she wasn't expected to talk for the most part—just nod and smile when introduced, shake countless numbers of hands, laugh at jokes that she didn't get—and then it was time to move on to the next person.

She wondered how she'd ever keep track of everyone she met that night, not that she really needed to. It seemed like an impossible task, and yet Gill did it effortlessly, always seeming to the name of the person approaching them and greeting them warmly ("How has your holiday been, Mayor Thomas?" or "How is your granddaughter, Romana?").

"Gill Hamilton!" a short and squat man adorning a red suit and black top hat boomed out, clapping Gill on the back and causing Angela to jump—though Gill appeared unfazed. "Might I have a word with you privately for a moment?"

Gill glanced at Angela, and she sent him the most pitiful, pleading look she could muster. Surely Gill wouldn't abandon her at a party like this. Surely he knew she couldn't fend for herself.

"Certainly," he said, and was already turning away as he asked, "You don't mind, do you, Angela?"

"I do," she muttered quietly, though it didn't matter what she said; the man led him away before she even gave her answer. She felt herself wilt and clutched her shawl tightly around her, though her skin felt hot and sticky.

She was about to go after Gill, grab him by his jacket sleeve and beg him to let her go home, when she heard her name from behind her. She stiffened and did not look for the source; she could tell by the tone of the voice that she was not being spoken _to_, but rather spoken _about_.

"…where he found a girl like Angela," a woman murmured, and it sounded familiar; perhaps it was one of the people she'd met earlier in the evening. "I wonder if Mayor Hamilton will allow them to marry?"

"Pity if he does," a second voice replied. "I'd be horribly embarrassed if I were him. To have my only son married off to a…" She trailed off, and though Angela could not see her, she could just imagine her wrinkling her nose as she finished her sentence. "…_Farmer_."

The first woman clucked her tongue. "I'd be suspicious if I were them. It seems awfully strange that she just blew into town one day with no money to speak of and seduced the mayor's son, just like that."

Angela wanted to gag and pressed her hand in a fist to her mouth, feeling her whole body go cold. The rest of the sounds of the party surrounding her melted away, and all she could hear were the nasty, suffocating words of the gossiping women, slowly encasing her in ice.

"Well, in the end, it's not as if the Hamiltons have much for her to go after, anyway—just that tacky, shabby little island town. I've heard it's falling apart."

"What a shame," one of them said—Angela lost track of which was speaking—and the two erupting into laughter that tinkled like breaking glass.

Angela trembled at the sound of their mirth, feeling her shame and anger from head to toe like she'd been wrapped in a blanket. It was humiliating to know that that's what people saw her as, but even more than embarrassed she felt angry; not for what they'd said about her, but for what they'd said about Waffle Town, after all the work Gill had poured into it. She turned to face her besmirchers and found the two women staring right at her, completely unabashed. She swallowed and tilted her chin up, suddenly enveloped with the mortifying urge to cry.

_Stay calm,_ she told herself, like it was just that simple. _Don't let it get to you. Just go find Gill and explain what happened, and then you can leave._ She turned on her heel, facing her back to them once more, and then strode off with purpose through the crowds of people to fetch her boyfriend.

x x x

Gill felt like he'd been listening to Mayor Theodore ramble on for far longer than necessary, but unfortunately, he was stuck. Part of the job description of mayor's son meant being courteous to everyone he met at functions like these, no matter how talkative or rambling they may be.

"It's quite impressive to see what you're doing with Waffle Town," the man said jovially, so short that his top hat was level with Gill's eyes. "Especially being such a young man."

"Thank you, Mayor Theodore," he said politely, trying not to grit his teeth at the comment. His age was something people often brought up when speaking of his accomplishments, like he was working with a handicap and it was a miracle he got anything done.

"I've heard you've been able to save money because of more efficient shipping methods. Would you mind telling me about them?"

"Certainly," Gill said, relaxing as the conversation headed into a territory he was more comfortable with: work. "I set up a system with the suppliers that—"

"Gill," someone broke in suddenly, and he instantly recognized the voice as Angela's. He turned to look at her as her fingers wrapped around his arm with enough strength to almost feel painful.

"What's the matter, Angela?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual even though he was upset at her interruption. Appearances were important in front of people like these, and he didn't want Mayor Theodore thinking he was rude.

"When can we go home?" she said, lowering her voice to a whisper, as if she at least partially realized how impolite she was being.

He was speechless for a moment—surely Angela had to know how important this was to him. How could she expect him to just walk out, right in the middle of a conversation with a mayor?

"Excuse me, Mayor Theodore," Gill said suavely, managing to remove Angela's hand from his arm and pull her over to the side. He turned to his girlfriend, trying to keep his frustration from seeping into his tone. "Angela. What is going on?"

"When can we go home?" she repeated, not so quietly now, though still not loud enough for anyone but him to hear.

Gill tugged at his collar, suddenly finding it quite restrictive and hot. "Angela, we can't leave. The party won't be over for another hour, and I'm right in the middle of something—"

"I want to go home," she insisted, her face maddeningly blank, like she didn't care about inconveniencing him at all. He ran a hand over the top of his head, feeling his cowlick spring lose from his carefully applied hair gel. This couldn't be happening. She wouldn't do this to him.

"You're acting like a child," he told her, fed up, and he watched her expression shift to from vacant to something he did not recognize. She stared at him for a moment longer and then turned on her heel, her dramatic exit spoiled by her unsteadiness in heels. She tottered off and he watched her go, wondering why it felt like he was the one who'd done something wrong.

x x x

Yes, maybe Angela was acting like a child. But acknowledging that didn't make her feel better.

It was funny, in that sickening kind of way; she thought she couldn't get anymore upset until she talked to her boyfriend. And now she was stumbling down one of the hallways of this stupid mansion, her vision too blurred with tears to see properly. And even if she could, she wouldn't know where she was going.

She didn't get very far before she slumped on her shoulder against a wall, next to a small table with a vase probably worth more than one season's harvest. She took deep breaths and tried to untangle her emotions.

What had she really been expecting? All it had been was a couple of gossiping women, discussing things they knew nothing about. It was meaningless, nothing worth crying over, nothing meriting comfort from her boyfriend.

And more importantly, this was Gill's night. She'd known that from the start, so what was she doing? Though his words still stung, she couldn't quite bring herself to blame him. There were important people at the party, people that could further Gill's career, people that he needed to impress. She was supposed to keep her mouth shut for just one night and let him do the talking, without caring what anyone had to say about her. All she had to do was be the girl on his arm, something that should come naturally to her, and somehow she managed to mess that up.

She slid down the wall until she was in a sitting position—an awkward feat with the dress she was wearing, but she managed it by crossing her ankles—and leaned her head back against the wall. She decided to wait until she was calm enough to return to the party, though she had no idea how long that could take.

x x x

"Is something the matter?" Mayor Theodore asked, observing Gill's slack jawed expression in the wake of Angela's departure.

"That was my girlfriend," Gill answered, forgetting his courteous sensibilities. Normally he wouldn't divulge such personal information to an acquaintance at a party like this, but currently he felt quite flabbergasted and spoke without thinking.

To his surprise, Mayor Theodore laughed. "Do you need to go after her?"

Gill paused, seeing a flash of Angela's face when he'd told her she was acting like a child. Though he might like to pretend otherwise, deep down he knew that expression on her face had been one of hurt, and he'd been the one to deal the blow.

"Yes," he replied after a moment. "Yes, I do."

Grateful for Mayor Theodore's graciousness, Gill quickly excused himself and set off in the direction Angela had went, though he could no longer see her. He earned a few strange looks from the people he pushed past on his way, but he didn't care about anyone else at the party anymore. He made his way across to the other side of the room, but there was still no sign of her. He glanced at a hallway that branched off to another part of the house and almost walked right past it, sure that Angela wouldn't do something like wander off by herself in a house as big as this one, but then quickly doubled back as he realized that's _exactly_ what she would do.

Fortunately, it only took a few paces until he found her sitting on the carpet, staring intently at the wall opposite her. He blew out a sigh of relief and approached her.

"Angela?" he said tentatively, crouching down next to her. He hoped she wouldn't shoo him away, and she didn't. Instead, she turned to look at him slowly, and her gleaming eyes betrayed her gloom. The sight of those tears made his stomach wrench with guilt.

"I'm sorry," she said at the same time he did. They smiled awkwardly, and in the silence that followed, Angela took charge. "No, really,_ I'm_ sorry," she pressed on insistently. "This was your night, and I almost ruined it."

"You didn't ruin it," he told her sincerely. "Not even close."

"Still," Angela persisted, her tone firm. "I overreacted. I was…upset."

"Did something happen?" Gill asked her, frowning worriedly as he recalled how desperately she'd wanted to leave.

Her eyes turned downward at his question, and her answer came reluctantly. "It's…it's just, I heard these people talking, at the party. About me and you."

He exhaled, already having an idea of what could've happened. And he wasn't very happy about it. "What did they say, exactly?"

"They…they think I'm just using you for your money and your position." She bit her lip and turned pink. "They said that I was _seducing_ you."

He coughed into his fist, sharing her embarrassment.

"You don't really think that, right?" she asked, and he could tell she knew how ridiculous her question sounded, but he could also tell she just wanted reassurance.

"Well, I don't know," he said, pretending to consider it. "I'd never really thought about it."

"Gill!"

"I'm just kidding. Of course I don't think that." He hesitated and felt the heat creep back up into his face. He loosened his tie and cleared his throat before he spoke again. "Though, personally, I wouldn't have a problem if you _did_ seduce me."

"Gill!" she said again, though without the anger her voice had held before. She giggled, blushing with him, but then quickly sobered up again. "But it's not just that though. They…they…"

"What?"

"They called Waffle Town 'shabby'!" she blurted, and Gill raised an eyebrow at her exclamation, wondering why she thought that the most heinous of all. He shifted so that he was sitting next to her.

"What's the big deal?" he asked with a shrug. It was mildly insulting, of course, but he was accustomed to the gossip that was the undercurrent of politics. By this point, it hardly meant anything to him.

Angela gasped, her jaw dropping. "What's the big deal?" she echoed in disbelief. "It's _your_ town! And you're doing a great job of running it!" Her eyes burned fiercely and she spoke passionately. "They had no right!"

He chuckled, both amused and flattered by her ardor. "Well, I'm glad you think so. Yours is the only opinion I care about, really."

She looked completely shocked by this statement. "That's not true! What about everyone out there? You have a reputation to uphold!" She gestured down the hall, where sounds from the party could be heard.

Gill grasped her arm gently and lowered it, shaking his head. "To be honest, I've had enough of it. I'm sorry that I got so caught up in it—and that I got_ you _so caught up in it."

"No, that's not true," she said, returning her gaze to the floor. "This was all my fault, not yours."

"Angela, how could it be your fault?" he asked, frustrated by her persistence.

"Because! Look at me." She ran a hand over the wrinkles of her dress. "I'm an embarrassment. I'm nothing like the women out there—"

"—I think you look beautiful—"

"—I'm just a child," she said, ignoring him, and he winced at the memory of what he'd called her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I shouldn't have said what I said—you weren't acting like a child. I was just being a jerk."

Her brow furrowed and she fell silent, like she wasn't quite sure to believe him. Then, finally, her features relaxed. "Well, as long as you can admit it," she said, a tiny smile poking at the corners of her mouth.

He laughed and rolled his eyes good-naturedly, before standing up and brushing himself off. He held out a hand to help her up. "What do you say we get out of here?"

She opened her mouth in mock horror as he pulled her to her feet. "Gill Hamilton! Are you suggesting we leave a party a whole hour before we're supposed to?"

He held onto her hand even after she was no longer sitting on the floor. "Yes, actually, I am."

Her expression suddenly turned shy, and she looked up at him from under her eyelashes. "Do you really think I'm beautiful?"

"Of course."

She broke out in a goofy grin and then squeezed his fingers, pointing up at something above them. "Look, Gill!" she gasped, turning her face upwards. "Mistletoe!"

He followed her gaze, but upon looking up, he saw nothing but the bumpy texture of the ceiling—definitely no mistletoe to be found. "Er, Angela, I don't see—"

She deftly silenced him with a kiss, wrapping one arm around his neck.

"—Any mistletoe," he finished, only slightly out of breath once they broke apart.

"I know," she said, her cheeks rosy and her smile big and impish. "I just wanted to kiss you."

He smiled into her lips when they kissed again, this time soft and short.

"Merry Christmas, Gill," she whispered into his ear, hugging him hard under the imaginary mistletoe.

"Merry Christmas, Angela."


End file.
